Page 44 of Highballs & Hexes

“Ah, strong magic at work,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “They’re breaking down my barriers, Fionola.Like you did.”

“Da?” Bridget’s voice was low and tender, almost tearful—definitely at odds with how strident it could be when she was on a tear. “Da, I’m here with Dubheasa and Ronan. We’ve come to help you.”

“Don’t want your help.” He brushed aside the sticky substance clouding his vision. Why wouldn’t everyone just leave him the feck alone? All he wanted was peace. It was all he’d everwanted from birth, along with a strong-willed but soft woman to keep him warm at night, children he could bounce on his knee and mold into decent human beings, a welcoming home, and a pint to drink now and again.

But the O’Connors, helped by Rose, had made it impossible. They’d turned him into a warped creature who didn’t know reality from nightmares. It could be argued his current reality was a nightmare, though.

Weary to his very soul, he said, “Go away. I deserve my fate.”

Or tried to.

The words were slurred and disjointed.

And completely ignored.

Strong arms lifted him as if he were a featherweight.

“Careful!” Fionola cried out. “He bashed his head.”

“He did, or you and your brother did?” Bridget snapped.

“There’s my darling girl. Ready to defend her kin even if it means scratching another’s eyes out,” Patrick murmured.

“Hedid,” Fi replied as if he hadn’t spoken. “The blood… I tried… I tried to help.” Sheer agony coated her words, and Patrick lifted his hand toward her to send her soothing energy.

Or tried to.

His arm refused to cooperate, and he frowned down at himself. Why the fuck wouldn’t they work?Useless appendages!When he looked to her once more, prepared to assure her he was well, fucking Noah was there and ready with an embrace.

Right when Patrick believed he had no fight left, jealousy provided the energy to struggle against those holding him. Over Ronan’s shoulder, he met Noah’s enigmatic look. Yet the man displayed no triumph or satisfaction, and it allowed Patrick to relax again.

Fi was where she needed to be. Withwhomshe needed to be to have the life she required. Not a washed-up old fool, no better than the bastard who’d set out to destroy him. If Loman’s soulhadn’t been obliterated by the Death Dealers, he’d certainly be somewhere laughing about Patrick’s plight.

At the forefront of his cloudy mind, a thought took hold and refused to leave him; the Authority had the power to ease his suffering and send one of their Death Dealers for him. He’d welcome it, too. His soul was too weary to continue on, anyway.

“Sleep now, Paddy,” Ronan said in a soothing, hypnotic voice. “You’ll be grand in no time.”

For the first time since they’d met, Patrick felt kindly toward the man. His eyes closed, and blissful darkness descended.

CHAPTER 20

“They should hang an out-of-order sign around the bastard’s bleeding neck and call it a day,” Tadhg declared.

Fionola gasped. Insta-rage rose up inside her, and if she didn’t walk away, she’d murder him for his insensitive comment. He hadn’t let up since the O’Malleys had arrived to bring their father home, but at least he’d had the sense not to say anything in front of Patrick’s family.

Still, he had to see she cared about the man’s welfare, too, right?

For hours, they’d been cloistered in the parlor of the Black Cat Inn, awaiting word of his condition. Or she was. Tadhg and Noah were unwilling to let her out of their sight for fear she’d up and disappear on them. But where would she go? Hers and Tadhg’s abductor was out of commission in a room upstairs, possibly breathing his last breath.

Her heart hiccuped.

Patrick O’Malley was too vibrant to die. Yes, he was injured, but until those last few minutes in his cell, he’d displayed a warrior’s will to do what must be done. Shaking her head, Fi crossed to the window and looked out over the garden. Wildherbs grew in organized clusters, and ivy climbed the side of the house visible from where she stood. Following its ascent up the wall, she stopped when she got to the third-floor window.

Patrick’s room.

Or the one he used whenever he was in town, according to him. During one of their many conversations, she’d discovered he owned a flat in Galway close to the West Coast ofÉirethat he loved so much.

Would he live to see his place again?

---